


That's A Good Boy

by Kuukkeli



Series: Pets & Playtimes [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, MTMTE, Master/Pet, PWP, Pet Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5366882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drifter gets a physical exam. A thorough one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's A Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> What the fuck is that title?! It's so goddamn clichéd! DX

Drift gave Ratchet a mug of hot energon and sat down on the couch next to the older mech, holding a mug of his own. There was a box between them placed on the couch and the red and white mech felt curiosity rear its head within him.

“So, you wanted to show me something?” Ratchet asked, nodding at the box.

Drift made an affirmative noise around a mouthful of hot energon and nodded.

“Yeah. I think we both will like what’s inside”, the younger mech beamed after swallowing and put his almost full cube away.

He turned to the box and lifted it on his lap and took the lid off. Inside the box, there was wrapping and after a short moment of rummaging, the speedster took a pair of kneepads and a pair of black mitten-paws made of sturdy rubber and a white rubber muzzle that looked like a dog’s snout. Drift shivered at the sight of his newest purchase.

The medic watched in silent surprise, unable to take his gaze away from the muzzle, his processor wandering around the idea of Drift wearing it.

“I knew you’d like them”, Drift smiled and inspected the paws he was eager to wear, and added, “I like them, too. I bought these during the last time we had shore leave. I found a shop which sold this kind of stuff and I wanted to surprise you.”

Ratchet cleared his throat, “Well, you certainly did. Would you... like to try them now?”

The look on the younger mech’s face absolutely lit up and his field flared with happiness and faint arousal. He got down on his knees in front of the couch, waiting obediently. Ratchet chuckled and went to fetch the collar and the tail from the berthroom and soon enough, he came with the accessories and sat back down on the couch. He had some plans for this playtime and he hoped Drift would be open for them.

“Before we begin, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do”, the red and white mech started while putting the collar on Drift and continued, “I’d like to perform a physical exam on Drifter and as we both know that he’s afraid of doctors, or in this case a vet, I thought this would be a good opportunity to train him. What do you say?” he explained and petted Drift’s crest.

“That sounds good”, Drift said, enjoying the gentle touches.

“Would you be acting aggressively or scared or...?” other mech asked, his sentence trailing off to give Drift room to make a suggestion.

“I think since Drifter hasn’t been aggressive towards you in any point, him being scared would make more sense”, the speedster answered, eagerness coloring his field.

“Yeah. Definitely yeah”, Ratchet mused and brushed his field against Drift’s, allowing their excitement mingle together, fueling their shared tinge of arousal they both felt already.

With that, they began by giving Drifter his tail. The most unpleasant part of their playtime – along with taking the tail off – but as soon as the tail was in place, Drifter got all the finial rubs and praises for being such a good boy.

Up next were the paws. They felt weird but Drifter would get used to them in no time. The kneepads were slipped on easily to protect Drifter’s knees.

They agreed not to use the muzzle this time but the item would most definitely be used in their upcoming sessions. Ratchet took a look at his pet and smiled as he saw the adoring expression on that precious face.

“Who’s a good boy? Who’s my good boy?” he crooned and rubbed behind Drifter’s finials affectionately.

The white mech lapped up the words and leaned against Ratchet’s leg, nuzzling the white thigh, ready to please his master.

Not starting the physical exam right away, the medic gave Drifter time to get comfortable and relaxed by rubbing his finials and stroking his back in long sweeps. The younger mech nudged his master’s face with his nose, uttering a happy growl deep in his vocalizer and tried to make his way into his lap.

“Down, boy. Down”, Ratchet commanded as Drifter became a little too insistent in his attempts to get into his lap.

Drifter obeyed right away and settled down, resting his head on Ratchet’s knee.

“Good boy.”

The speedster sighed at the praise, feeling his spark swell with love and his array tingle and warm up slightly.

“You wanna play?” Ratchet asked, patting his hands against his knees.

Drifter yipped and play-bowed, wiggling his hips to wag his tail. Yes, he wanted to play! Anything with master! Yes!

“Go get the toy!”

Drifter disappeared to the berthroom and after a while of digging in the pile of various chewing toys, he came back with their favored tug-of-war toy; a large, soft piece of rope with knots on both ends. Sitting in front of his master, the white mech offered the toy in his mouth.

Ratchet grasped the toy and gave it a light tug. “Drop it.”

Drifter’s fangs let go of the toy and he backed away a little bit before sitting still. He fidgeted as his master didn’t do anything. Play-bowing again to get Ratchet to play, he downright barked this time.

_What’s taking you so long? C’mon! Let’s play already!_

“Shh!” Ratchet hissed, pointing at his suddenly impatient pet, “Quiet, boy.”

The younger mech whimpered, remaining in his play-bow, his finials drooping back.

_I wanna play! Master!_

The toy was tossed across the room all of a sudden and Drifter scrambled after it.

“Good boy. Bring it.”

Chewing the toy couple of times, Drifter brought it back but didn’t release it when his master issued a command.

_No way. It’s mine now._

And so began the tug-of-war.

They played until Drifter managed to snatch the toy out of his master’s hand, smug and victorious as he gave the toy away.

“Good boy. You’re so _strong_ and _smart_.”

The praises made Drifter’s spark sing with joy and his field bloom with deep affection and adoration as he leaned in for some well-earned pettings and finial rubs. Panting, he pressed his side against Ratchet while the older mech showered him with unconditional love. He couldn’t be any happier, really. And neither could Ratchet, if the intense pulse of his field was anything to go by.

“Good boy, such a good boy, yes. My good Drifter”, Ratchet babbled and kissed his pet’s cheek.

He thought now it’d be a good time to take things towards the plan they’d come up with. He had small energon chips in a box which he had in his subspace to reward his pet who’ll without a doubt cower away the second he mentioned ‘physical exam’. Good thing he was prepared.

“Oh, I almost forgot”, he bemoaned, “I think it’s time for your physical exam, Drifter.”

As he had expected, the instant the white mech heard the two dreaded words, his field shrunk and his posture changed from excited and happy to submissive and scared. Drifter uttered a whimper and he hunched down closer to the floor, finials flat against his head and pulled so far back that the tips nearly brushed his upper dorsal.

“It’s all right, boy”, Ratchet said reassuringly, his field enhancing the emotion, “It won’t hurt at all, I promise.” While speaking to his scared pet, the medic knelt down next to him and tried to get him to respond by stroking and petting him and encouraging him.

When Drifter didn’t budge, the red and white mech took a treat out of his subspace and held it out for his pet to eat it. The treat was accepted and little by little, treat after treat, slowly but surely, Ratchet got Drifter to stand up to his feet. If the tail was real, it would’ve been tugged between Drift’s legs, there was no doubt about that.

“There’s a good boy! Yes, my brave, _brave_ Drifter. I’ll start by examining your arms, all right?”

He waited for the white mech to give the all green before starting. When he received a meek yes nudging against his field, he ever so carefully tested the projector of Drifter’s right shoulder and elbow and wrist and repeated the action on the other side.

Then he moved to the legs and checked there weren’t any kinks or strange noises coming from the joints or anything that would require further attention. To exam Drifter’s hip joints, Ratchet came to stand behind his pet and slowly coaxed him to lift his right leg and move it to the side to expose the cables and the joint itself.

“Good boy, just like that.”

Ratchet supported the younger mech by his chest with his left arm while his other hand went to the hip joint, fingers probing and locating any possible sore spot. And sure enough, he found a sensitive spot right next to Drifter’s pelvis beneath one cable. His pet flinched and whined as he started massaging the spot, making sure the joint relaxed enough before stopping for a brief moment and then continuing again.

Heat started pooling behind Drifter’s panels but he kept as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw too much attention. His hoisted leg twitched slightly whenever his master pushed his fingers just a tad bit deeper or moved them to a new location between his thigh and pelvis. Then his leg was lowered gently and the treatment was repeated to his left leg, the touching driving his growing arousal higher.

During examining each limb, the older mech gave his pet treats for being so brave and behaving so well. He also rubbed Drifter’s finials to sooth him properly.

Drifter’s limbs were all in good condition: no grinding, no popping, no rattling. Then it was over.

“Okay. Then I’ll check your teeth.”

Ordering Drifter to go back down to his hands and knees, Ratchet appeased his pet when he picked up the spike of panic in the white mech’s field. That felt oddly authentic. He sent a pulse of encouragement/safe/won’t hurt you and an ask should they stop. The worst edge of the panic faded away and Drift replied with a clear no, he wanted to do this. Ratchet sighed and nodded at that, well aware that Drift was still rather self-conscious about his fangs, despite all the reassurances that they’re part of him and they looked very nice on him.

“No need to be afraid, Drifter. This won’t hurt at all.”

Just to be sure Drifter wouldn’t try to escape, the red and white mech went to get the leash and attached it to his pet’s collar, wrapping the other end around his hand so that there was no slack.

“All right, let’s start.”

That proved to be harder than he expected as Drifter did whimper and tried to jerk his head away as soon as Ratchet peeled his upper lip out of the way to reveal the sharp fangs.

Ratchet snatched his hand away. “It’s okay, it’s okay”, he said softly and calmed his pet down by embracing him. “I’ll have to check your teeth eventually”, he added as he petted Drifter.

The white mech gathered himself and nudged the hand that was stroking his cheek.

_This feels so good and I don’t want to disappoint master. I’ll be a good boy from now on._

They tried again and this time, Ratchet managed to check Drifter’s fangs, even though his pet growled deep in his vocalizer and revved his engine, letting his discomfort be known through his field.

To check the molars, too, the older mech wedged a thumb between Drifter’s upper and lower incisors and carefully pried the white mech’s mouth open. Drifter tried to squirm his way free but the soothing praises from his master were enough to ease his discomfort to a manageable level.

Done checking his pet’s teeth, Ratchet embraced Drifter with praises and treats.

“Oh, what a good boy I have here, yes”. Ratchet sounded silly when he talked in that overly affectionate manner but neither of them cared. What mattered was that both him and Drift enjoyed these sessions and that they had these moments only for themselves.

And besides, that talking manner really suited these sessions. Who _wouldn’t_ talk like that to their pet, after all?

Ratchet came to stand above his pet so that the speedster was between his legs and hooked his right arm over his chest and lifted, forcing Drifter to rise to his knees. The position also forced Ratchet to bend forward a little but when he hugged Drifter closer, his spark flared with love; the delighted pulse of love/submission/happy that brushed against his field and the way his pet’s finials flattened were worth it.

He ran his left hand from Drifter’s chest all the way down to his pelvis and back up in long, soothing strokes. The very moment the red and white mech’s hand reached the pelvis for the second time, the younger mech whimpered and leaned away from the touch. The sudden surge of pleasant sensation took him by surprise.

“What is it, boy? Hm?” Ratchet asked with fake-concern, keeping his hand very close to the warm panel that hid Drifter’s already erect spike, “What’s wrong?”

Drifter whimpered again, evading his master’s questioning gaze, his finials drooping lower. The red fingers on his pelvis drew circles over the smooth surface, stealing a longer whine from his vocalizer and this time, he couldn’t override the insistent internal command and both his primary and secondary covers slid aside. His spike glided into the waiting hand, biolights pulsing brightly, valve aching and throbbing.

“So _that_ was the problem”, the older mech crooned, “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

That being said, Ratchet’s hand started a slow pumping motion over the rigid spike, securing his pet tighter into his hug as he squirmed.

“Shh, shh, shh, Drifter. It’s okay, I’ve got you”, he murmured softly against the top of younger mech’s head and kissed the white crown.

His hand moved easily around the spike as it became slicker with each time his hand rubbed over the tip to spread the pre-transfluids along the shaft. Listening to his pet’s breathy moans, Ratchet felt his own spike press against its secondary cover beneath his panel but he fought the urge to pop his own panel; he’d have to wait a little longer. After a couple of more strokes, he let go and ushered his pet back down on his hands and knees. Drifter lied down without a command, uttering a pitiful whine, his bright optics following his master’s every move.

Ratchet knelt down next to him, stroking his back. “On your side”, came the command and the speedster rolled to his side, back against his master’s thighs.

An arm hooked under Drifter’s left knee and up came the leg, giving the medic a good opening to wrap his fingers around his pet’s spike again. The younger mech moaned and tried to thrust into the red hand.

“Ah-ah, none of that”, Ratchet’s tone was reprimanding and Drifter whimpered his apology.

The hand continued stroking him and soon Drifter felt the coil in his lower belly tighten.

_Please, master, please, please, let me overload, please! Oh, master, please!_

The frantic flaring in his field gave away Drifter’s need to overload and Ratchet granted it more than gladly. The hand quickened its pace and with a loud wail, the white mech overloaded, a spurt of silver transfluids drippling down from the slit to stain the floor.

Praises flooded Drifter’s audios and they wrung a smaller overload out of him, a few droplets of transfluids adding to the mess already on the floor, small amount of fresh lubricants trickling from his valve. He was too much into his bliss to notice Ratchet moving around him until a hand came down to his finial and rubbed it before the same hand cupped his chin and guided him to lift his head.

When his face was on the same level with Ratchet’s pelvis – when had Ratchet taken a knee and moved closer in front of him? – a faint click sounded and the panel slid aside and the secondary cover as well to free his master’s spike, glistening and hard. Crawling closer, the white mech nudged the spike and purred, licking the tip. The grunt he heard above him urged him to go further and he sealed his lips around the tip and gave a firm suck.

Ratchet gasped and rubbed his pet’s finial, keeping his gaze on the white mech’s face. “Attaboy, Drifter. Attaboy”, he praised, letting his arousal bleed into his field.

Moaning at the wave of arousal coming from his master and drinking the praises, Drifter took more of Ratchet’s spike into his mouth. His slightly bowed position didn’t allow him to take more than just half of the shaft but that didn’t seem to bother either of them as he wriggled his tongue against the slit, a groan escaping Ratchet’s lips.

The younger mech was so into pleasing his master that he didn’t sense or feel Ratchet leaning over him until there was a light push against his valve. He moaned around the spike as two fingers sank into him and Ratchet’s other hand fondled with the base of his tail.

The fingers inside him slid out to roll his swollen, glowing anterior node between them before sinking back in. Whimpering, Drifter arched his back so the fingers would go deeper, the fingers caressing the mesh walls and occasionally scissoring them apart. The fingers returned to his node, rubbing it in lazy circular motion. The white mech moaned as he arched his back more and tilted his hips, not wanting those deft fingers ever leave him.

The older mech pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his thumbs, running them through the wet folds couple of times and then pressing them past the first ring of calibers but only just. He massaged and spread the clenching walls, groaning at the combined pleasure shooting up from his spike being suckled and his thumbs being squeezed oh so nicely. At this rate he wouldn’t last long.

Withdrawing his thumbs from the delicious valve, Ratchet straightened himself, dragging his palms along his pet’s back, and glanced down; Drifter bowed down, his lips snuggly around his girth. Almost overloading when the white mech opened his optics and raised his bright blue gaze to meet with his, the medic cupped Drifter’s chin and pushed him gently, gesturing him to pull away.

The younger mech whimpered at the loss of touch, licking the tip of red spike clean, the look in his optics begging. He wanted his master’s touch!

“All in good time, boy”, Ratchet purred, his vents cycling hot air out of his body as he brought his hand to his spike and gave a few strokes. Though, snapping out of it, he let go of his spike. He had to gather his bearings. Primus, he had no idea he was so close to overloading. The way Drifter chased after his spike as he stood up, the way his spike throbbed... It was becoming too much for him to handle.

He walked to the couch and sat down astride, his spike so erect it was almost painful, the oral fluids giving the shaft a glossy sheen. Tilting his head, he watched his pet squirm, sitting on his haunches, the speedster’s spike jutting between his legs, untouched, the reds and whites reflecting the pulsing biolights that were embedded into the shaft.

After admiring the sight, he patted his lap. “Here, boy.”

Drifter crawled to his master and climbed to his lap, adjusting his legs to straddle the older mech, placing his paws on Ratchet’s shoulders to support himself. He leaned in to lick his master’s neck and jaw, showing his submission to the other mech. When Ratchet offered him his lubricant-covered fingers, the younger mech started licking and sucking them without a separate command.

His gaze never left Ratchet’s as he swirled his tongue around a fingertip, dipped between the two fingers, sucked them clean... He could feel the heat and thick arousal roll from the red and white mech in waves.

“Attaboy”, Ratchet breathed, his spike twitching in interest to fill that inviting valve that hovered above it, the tip barely brushing against the entrance. Just a teeny tiny upward thrust and he’d sink into that welcoming heat.

As if Drifter had read his thoughts – or rather, his _field_ – he lowered himself onto that spike, a shaky moan slipping from his lips as the spike spread him wide, calibers rippling around it to accommodate to its girth. With every downward push, he pulled up an inch, rocking on the spike, until he was fully sheathed onto his master’s spike. Still having the leash attached to his collar, the younger mech gathered it into his hands and put the bundle into his mouth and dropped it onto a waiting hand.

“That’s my good boy”, Ratchet thanked and rewarded Drifter with an affectionate brush to his cheek, the white mech leaning into the touch and purring.

Pulling his pet into a safe embrace, the medic ran his hands down and around Drifter’s striped waist and cupped his aft and lifted him until only the head his spike remained in and rammed back in, evoking a pair of moans. Setting a nice, satisfying pace, Ratchet savored the noises Drifter made, how good his valve felt around him, squeezing and clenching, how his finials drooped in pleasure, how his field went wild...

“Oh, you’re so _gorgeous_ , Drifter. So beautiful. And only for _me_ ”, he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more hurried as they both chased their release.

“ _My_ Drifter.”

The claim, the way it was growled into his audio, the firm yank to the leash, tipped the younger mech over the edge and into his bliss, a whimpering moan breaking loose from his lips.

Seeing his pet come undone triggered Ratchet’s own overload and with a choked moan, he thrust into Drifter, riding the wave of his overload until it ebbed away, leaving him spent and his vents roaring. The speedster wasn’t that much better; shivering in the afterglow, sated and happy.

“You all right?” the red and white mech asked, embracing the other mech lovingly.

A nod answered his question and he let his arms drop down to the luscious thighs as Drifter shifted to look into his optics. The gaze took Ratchet’s breath away; the intense burn was mesmerizing, adoring. No wonder he fell so hard for this amazing, gorgeous, handsome mech.

Not thinking straight any more, he sealed their lips into a searing kiss, ignoring the throb of Drifter’s valve that still enveloped his now flaccid spike. They were sated and didn’t care for a second round. This was good. They spent the better half of the hour embracing each other, basking in each other’s warmth.

They weren’t in any kind of rush to get cleaned just yet.

Just a little bit longer...

**Author's Note:**

> What the HELL did I just write? :D


End file.
